“Can’t see a thing,” he reported. “The wind is gettin’ worse, an’ the water’s risen nigh a foot. How is them booms, Dinny? Our whole drive is down by now, an’ there’s an awful weight on them with this wind an’ the high water.”
“I went over them when we came down,” returned McKenna. “They’re all right. The big lower one is three logs, and well anchored.”
“They should have another anchor-pier in the middle of it,” growled MacNutt. “It has an awful belly. If it went out on us——” He paused and shook his head.
The boom referred to was directly above the rapids, strung at an angle across the river. Upon it came all the pressure of the logs above. It was a massive affair, built of three logs fastened side by side and chained to other threes end to end. The ends of the boom were secured to huge, stone-filled piers. It appeared capable of holding any weight of logs.
“What’s the use of talkin’ like that, Mac?” said Tobin, half angrily. “You’re borrowin’ trouble for every one. The boom’s all right. I looked at it myself after Dinny did.” Nevertheless he went out ten minutes later and was absent sometime. “She sure has a belly on her,” he said when he returned. “She’ll hold, though. I think the wind’s dropped some.”
As he uttered the words a shrieking gust almost laid the tent flat. A shout and muffled curses followed.
“I’ll bet one of the men’s tents has blown down,” said Joe. “Hear Cooley swear.”
They grinned at each other as Cooley rose to the occasion. The wind grew worse. The side and roof of the tent bellied in and slatted in the squalls. Tobin went out and tautened the guy ropes.
“It’d blow the bark from a tree,” he cried when he came in.
McKenna sat pulling his grizzled moustache. The wind, the rapidly rising water, the huge weight of timber, and MacNutt’s forebodings were getting on his nerves. Suddenly he began to pull on his spiked river boots.